Title: Obsession
Author: Shinkou
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Warning: weird writing style (2nd person), might be hard to follow.... humor fic maybe, more of a contemplating fic.... yeah. o.O weird idea, but it was a concept that just popped into my head.
Summary: Draco's obsessed and he doesn't know it. Side fic (I guess) to Infatuation.
Author's notes: ah... since I had the Harry fic, I decided to make a Darco version of it. Also! Thanks soooo much to Yoake-chan for helping me with the new ending!
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You were always preoccupied with Potter.
Some might say that you were so fixated on him that other duties were forgotten.
Your eagle owl swooped down and landed on the bedpost, sticking one clawed feet out towards you. You stared at the unmistakable seal on the letter and felt your heart sink with dread.
Damn Potter got you again.
With lightly trembling hands you took the letter, opening it as your owl soared away.
Son,
I have not received your daily letters for the fifth time this month,
and I am disappointed. If this is due to your schoolwork, then I
suggest you take some time off socializing. You do not need any more
useless followers, for what is most important is the one you follow:
me. If the lack of reports is due to other distractions, I suggest you
exterminate the distracters immediately. Forgetfulness is not allowed
and certainly does not honor the Malfoy name, so rest assured, you will
be punished should this habit continue. I expect a full explanation
without delay.
Your father,
LM
PS. Your mother misses you.
At first the ugly claws of guilt and shame squeezed your heart, then they turned into red furious anger. You crumbled the expensive paper and ignited it.
Damn Potter! If it weren't for that cheeky little Gryffindor, your father would never have been disappointed. You would have had time to write all the missed letters, describing in sweet details how you tortured The-Boy- Who-Lived and his pet weasels, artfully bypassing the explanations. You would have honored the Malfoy name. It was all Potter's fault!
Of course, not that he knew about it.
Every night, after finishing your work, you would lie in bed and plan out your Potter torture routine for the coming morning. Or at least it was what you intended to do, when most of the time you ended up analyzing the different aspects of your archrival.
In these moments, sometimes you would get so carried away that you, shamefully, forgot to report to your father. Like yesterday. You tightened your lips and narrowed your eyes, feeling the anger boiling your blood.
This meant double the suffering tomorrow, Potter.
Suddenly you remembered what was in store the following night, and your tight frown turned into a lazy, calculating sneer. Oh yes, Potter will suffer under your merciless hands.
In your glee, you forgot to reply to your father's letter.
But do not forget, you always thought about Potter.
With an once-over in front of the mirror, you strolled smugly out of the dorms and into the common room, thinking all the while about the faces Potter would make after you were done with him. An evil chuckle escaped your lips.
"Crabb! Goyle!" You called out. The two stood up, one sluggishly and the other slightly off balance. Sad really, the state of their physical fitness. But what did you expect? Their body masses were unevenly distributed from birth. You laugh silently at the fact that Potter and his pets felt intimidated by them.
With a jerk of your neck, you signaled them over, and they obeyed like the loyal dogs they were.
"So, uh, Draco. What're we gonna do to Potter today?" Vincent grunted out.
You jumped the slightest bit, frightened for a moment that Vince had somehow acquired the ability to read minds. Your eyes narrowed and you seethed, "What makes you think we're out to harass Potter?"
"Well, uh," the thug mumbled, confusion printed across his face, "we always go and uh, harass Potter." Beside him Gregory nodded furiously in agreement.
Draco gave them both a menacing stare, then dropped the topic. He leaned against a table and glared at the occupants of his self-entitled sofa until they hurried away. "We're not going after Potter today, at least, not directly." You leered at no one in particular. No one in the room, in any case.
Deep down inside you knew the look was directed at Potter, wherever he was.
Your cronies guffawed loudly, although you seriously doubt they understood your words. You shrugged. After all, they were not made for intelligent conversations.
Potter, on the other hand, was. You had heard him talk to the Mudblood. What a shame that whenever he conversed with you, it was always insults. Always with that look, dripping with hatred. No amiable wittiness and laughter.
Not that you wanted that, of course.
Of course.
"--co? Draco?" Gregory's pitiful excuse for a voice drifted into your ears.
"What?" You snapped, annoyed more at yourself for drifting off than anything.
"You drifted off there," Vincent read your mind once more.
"No I didn't," you lied, "I'm trying to put my directions into words you idiots can understand. Now," you continued before they could reply, "I want you two to go get that Ravenclaw girl Potter was talking to yesterday. Get her and bring her to the library at the same place we saw them. I'll be waiting there. You got that?"
There were blank faces. You sighed loudly. Suddenly Crabb's eyes lighted up.
"Oh! You mean that uh, pretty girl?" Grunt grunt.
"I remember her! The really pretty, really pretty girl!" Snicker snort snort.
You sighed once more. Here lied the exact reason why dogs didn't talk. Magnitude could only be expressed with repetition. All forms of language were useless except the primitive conversational techniques of Neanderthals. Which, of course, was like a dog's, and that brought you back to the start.
Or, rather, it brought you back to Potter, since you had started analyzing him once again.
If your memory served, Potter had a very distinct voice and accent that anyone, or perhaps just you, could pick out in a crowd without hesitation.
You were deep in thought, as usual, when your thugs stumbled their way out of the dungeons. You glanced at their disappearing figures and snickered silently.
Clumsy little fools. And Potter always thought that they were trying to be menacing.
You were always preoccupied with Potter. Some might say that you were so fixated on him that other duties were forgotten. But do not forget, you always thought about Potter. Observers, had there been any, would have called it an obsession, but you, of course, would call them liars.
You have read the dictionary back when you were young, and you knew what the word meant.
Ob-ses-sion: n: A persistent, recurring, involuntary thought, image, or impulse that invades consciousness and causes great distress.
That didn't describe you, of course. Because you did not have persistent, recurring, involuntary thoughts about Potter. Because thoughts of him did not invade your consciousness. Because those thoughts did not cause you great distress.
Of course not.
Although, had Potter looked at you differently, you would not have had to be in denial.
....
You know I'm right.
fin. (or is it? probably not....)
side note: forgive me for the Goyle and Crabbe bashing . I don't really mean it.